Moment of prime
by rozzy07
Summary: Drabble, 2 brothers and a bar.


_Hiya, just delurking with this little snippet of drabble. Forgive any awkward moments cos I am seriously green at this!_

_Usual disclaimers against all things relating to CW/WB and Supernatural. I own nothing! Just 2 brothers and their experiences in a bar!_

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_**Moment of Prime** _

Playing pool. He loves the game.

He loves the eyes on him.

He loves the power.

The attention.

That brief moment when he feels almost normal.

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It's dark in the corner and he hides behind the long hair, letting it cover his eyes and his face, a means of avoidance to the looks he gets when it's swept back.

He doesn't like when overt eyes study him, does not welcome their glances in his direction as they seek him out, eyes that want to be with him.

Hold him. Keep him.

Lately he has learnt to fold himself up as small as possible, to hideaway and shrink into himself so that he remains unnoticed.

Even in the busiest bar he remains but a shadow, a flickering half image of himself.

Unobserved.

Just as he likes it.

Alone.

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With a broad grin he stands cocky, fierce and bold.

Eyes seek you out daring you to look away.

At the bar he always gets served first, fist soon clenching a cold beer, a smile of satisfaction at the first swig.

A mega smile searching out his next conquest.

Soon there it is - a pool table, a pretty girl, anything to take him away from his thoughts, his inner pain, if but for just for an hour or two when he will not be alone.

The clunk of white ball against red, followed by the satisfactory whack into the pocket bring in the admiring stares. With a smirk he knows the dollars on the table are already his, readying to be bagged.

The silly giggles of the two girls drinking behind feeding his need.

Eyes watch him, mesmerised by his confidence and beauty.

He's at his prime and people hunger for him.

They yearn to be like him. Touch him. Have him.

Mega Smile rakes in the cash and the girls and the alcohol softens the hard edges, brings a real warmth to his face, the real promise of fun.

His laughter is real, loud and hearty as he grabs up his winnings, claps a consoling hand on the back of his victim, before claiming his other prize.

The girls eagerly follow.

The noise is deafening.

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From the shadow he watches as the true hunter's light burns brightly, attracting the moths to the flame as he works his magic on their weakness.

He's afraid for him now.

His moment of prime is but a step away from decay.

From triumph to loss shadowing his every move.

He can see that he has had one beer too many. His eyes are slightly glazed, his smile sloppy, the girls looped on either arm easily hooked under his charm, his easy words.

Pretty girls young and vapid.

Its' all too easy, all too quickly over with that he wonders that he doesn't get tired of the game.

In the end he will be alone.

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He should have backed down, kept his mouth shut but that was not a apart of his makeup.

The girl on his left, Sandy, if that was her name, had pulled away from the Jolly Green Jacket that had blocked their path. Grabbing for barbie girl, to hard, to viciously to ignore.

Mega Smile turned instantly to Killer Smile.

Fists hit hard.

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A noise brings his head up sharply so that his hair falls away from his face and suddenly sharp eyes seek out the disturbance.

The girls whimper, backing away as six thugs, broad and menacing surround his brother.

His brother look seriously pissed. Never a good thing.A swinging fist, a blocking arm, following by a jaw breaking smack with his left, and one goes down.

He hears him give a smug laugh, relishing the violence, as his fist connects with another goon's midriff.

Ooooof.

The man hisses and falls forward and swiftly he brings up sharply a knee which connects with the goon's nose so that blood spurts in an arc across the dirty floor.

Messy but effective and very satisfying.

The crowd cheer him on offering support, their presence. Their collectiveness.

The girls hover by the bar, their silences acknowledging the reasons for the attack.

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Like a starburst he illuminates the dank room as he unfurls himself,

He is young standing a head taller than most and with long legs strides quickly across the room.

His emergence does not go unnoticed as all eyes lock on to him as he leaves the shadows.

His light is as bright as the other. If not more painfully brighter.

He bears a young face both beautiful and fresh, so focused, so impossibly angry. It is hard to meet his gaze and not feel his emotions.

His pain. His conflict. His anger.

His fury.

Most would, and will soon turn away, so that they can drink more of their alcohol as a blanket, a buffer to forget that he been amongst them.

But now he stood on the brink of prime and could not be ignored.

Impossibly tall, he called out "Dean". A large shout out alone in a crowd of many whispering voices.

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And so it all unfolds in the space and time of 3 strides:

A third man with a pool stick whishing towards the wolf's head is stopped in mid swing as the younger pup suddenly yanks it back,

The goon is held tight in a grip so strong that not even the devil would have twisted out of it, and as his head jerks back and all he sees is cold blue green eyes as he is punched so hard to the side of the head that consciousness evaporates to nothingness with frightening ease.

Easy.

Done with.

And all watch as the one idiot collapses with a thud to the ground as the tallest one reaches for the fourth man to haul him upwards with one tight hand around his throat, lifting him off his feet so that his toes are a foot above the floor, and as he struggles for breath he can see the anger in the man's eyes.

He vaguely hears him hiss. "No one touches my brother. Ever". And all he can think before he is slam dunked hard against the opposite wall with blinding speed is 'Fuck, he has a brother….'

All watch as with a strength few would have thought possible as the fifth goon is flung across the room and watch him concertina against the opposite wall with a shriek of pain.

Immediately out for the count.

Done with.

The sixth idiot slips back against the solidness of the wooden bar, tail between his legs, with a hitching whimper in his throat, as the brother tries to reach him with on long arm before the girls, simpering cries, divert him back to his main focus.

Dean.

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A broad lopsided grin meets him as he snakes a hand up to haul his brother's drunken ass up. "Hey princess about time you joined the party." (thank you)

"Jerk". (you're so welcome)

"Bitch" (whatever! But I'm glad I could help this once.)

And so the killer smile is smothered by the other with a smile so innocent, so deliciously bright that all want them, but none will share in what they have.

And all will want them.

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**_The end_**.

_So guys', wrote this months ago and just didn't know what to do with it. Hate it, like it, want to improve on it...please let me know!_

Roz


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